The Rebellion

  “How much danger will there be?”

  He shrugged. “Not so much as all that, I suppose, since none of the leaders would risk giving away a secret meeting at which they themselves might be taken prisoner or slain. The other thing, of course, is that the rebels do want the rebellion to occur, and a raid at Bodera’s house would immediately put an end to it.” Brydda shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I am worrying over nothing, but I think it sets a bad precedent. And I don’t like putting Bodera in danger.”

  “I suppose I must accept the risk if you and the others do. When will the meeting take place?”

  “Within the sevenday,” Brydda said. “And the sooner it is over, the better I’ll feel.”

  28

  I SPENT MOST of the day sitting by Dragon’s bed, holding her hand.

  I had brought her out of a different kind of solitude to Obernewtyn, and now she was lost to us again, locked behind the fortress of her own mind.

  In the late afternoon, the rain clouds parted to reveal a watery sun. I donned fur-lined boots and a thick cloak just the same, determined not to freeze as I had the last time I kept a midnight vigil outside a warehouse.

  I went down to ask if Gahltha wanted a blanket.

  “I/Gahltha am not cold,” he sent.

  “Maruman/yelloweyes has been gone longlong days,” I sent, wondering as always why the beasts called a one-eyed cat “yelloweyes.” Although, I did it just as unthinkingly. Perhaps because, like Dameon, the old cat often saw better than those of us with two eyes.

  Gahltha gave me a level look. “He does what he/ yelloweyes must.”

  I frowned into his dark eyes. “Do you/Gahltha know where he/Maruman is?”

  “The voices of his chaos/madness call him when they will, and he/Maruman must hear them. The strain of guardianship caused the voices to call.”

  I frowned, confused. “Guardianship?”

  “Of the dreamtrails. I/Gahltha know that it is not easy. Yet I have sworn to Maruman/yelloweyes that I would take his place. I did not know how until he/yelloweyes showed me. The dreamtrails are strange/dangerous. On them are beasts like none that walk the earth and shapes that hide/conceal other shapes, yet one grows better at it.”

  I wondered if I was understanding him correctly. In my mind’s eye, I saw the black horse leap into the tunnel of my dreams, urging me to run while he fought off whatever it was that followed me. Maruman’s H’rayka? A dark unease filled me at the thought that somehow those nightmares were real.

  “Are you/Gahltha saying that Maruman/yelloweyes asked you to look after me … my mind or my dreams, and then went away in his madness/mindchaos?”

  “Did I not say so?”

  Was it possible I was being somehow stalked in my dreams? Impossible as it seemed, I shivered, for if the H’rayka was my mirror image, wouldn’t he possess the same powers as me?

  “Sallah comes,” Jaygar sent.

  I turned to see Brydda ride into the yard on the white mare Sallah. The golden afternoon sunlight gave her a dazzling regality. I was surprised Brydda did not try to hide her beauty as I did Gahltha’s. But perhaps his size was enough to dissuade thieves.

  “Greeting and hail, ElspethInnle,” Sallah sent formally.

  “Greetings,” I returned, embarrassed at the thought that the white horse might have communicated to Brydda her belief that I was the incarnation of a savior figure in beastlegend.

  “Beastsecrets are not for the funaga,” Sallah sent with clear reproof.

  “Am I not funaga?”

  “You are Innle,” Sallah sent.

  “Are you ready?” Brydda asked.

  I nodded, and Gahltha came forward so that I could mount him. Wordlessly, we rode out into the yard where Kella waited by the gate to say goodbye.

  “Be careful,” Jaygar sent after us.

  “Always,” Gahltha returned.

  It was chilly already, and I was glad of my cloak. Gladder still that the rain had stopped. With luck, it would remain clear until we were safely back at the repair shed.

  “We had better dismount,” Brydda said when we neared the river piers. “I have a few rebels in a house close by. They have been watching the place all day. We can leave the horses there and go the rest of the way on foot.”

  I gave him a quick look, disturbed that he had already set his people in place.

  “Just in case of trouble,” he promised, sensing my disquiet. “I wanted to have some idea of the movement of traffic about these river piers. I had no particular knowledge of them.”

  The house turned out to be yet another of the city’s burned-out hovels. I was glad to find that only three rebels awaited us in the yard behind it. Reuvan was one of them. Beside him was a tall, lanky fellow I had not seen before, with woolly brown hair and a beard to match. The third was the blond woman with the plague-scarred face whom I had met at The Good Egg. I searched my memory for her name—Oria. Fortunately, she was engrossed in the examination of a map and had not seen me arrive. For Domick’s sake, I swiftly erased my face from her memory. When Brydda introduced us, she gave me a searching look, but there was no recognition in it.

  “What have you found out?” Brydda asked her briskly.

  She flicked her fingers at the bearded man, who had a steady, seasoned look about him, and drew us into a room whose windows had been blackened. He lit a small lantern and unrolled the piece of paper Oria had been studying.

  “Here is the sea,” he rasped, stabbing a brown-stained finger at the paper. “There are four pier warehouses that traders lease privately from the Herder Faction. They are spread apart a little so that carts can draw up between them. As you see, there are the same number of piers. Each warehouse has its own, and here, opposite, there are sheds for storage—one for each warehouse. They are quite often leased out separately. A rough road runs between them.”

  “The Faction owns the pier sheds, too?” I asked.

  Oria nodded. “They bought them recently from the Council, and the wharfs. They use the river to travel straight from their cloister on the edge of the Suggredoon to Morganna and Aborium and then to Herder Isle. The Council controls all of the main sea wharfs and warehouses, as well as the ferry that checks the riverboats, but they leave the river to the Herders now. Of course, other boats use the wharfs to ship wares in or out, and they pay the Herders for it. Small vessels mostly. The Herder ships are the largest that use the wharfs.”

  I nodded but felt chilled at the thought of being on property controlled by the fanatical Faction.

  “The pier manifest says there are only two ships due in tomorrow. One of them must be the slave ship,” the bearded rebel put in. “Unless it comes in unscheduled.”

  “Is the pier empty now? Can we get any closer?” Brydda asked.

  Reuvan shook his head. “A Faction boat docked about an hour back, and there are at least a dozen burlymen and seamen roving about. We’ll have to wait until they’re done, but it should not be too long—they are loading straightaway.”

  Oria touched Brydda’s arm, and there was a clear look of devotion in her eyes, though her voice was brisk and businesslike. “The other thing is that troops of soldierguards have spent the day running some sort of training exercise on the banks of the river right by the warehouse that juts out over the water. Their camp is not far from here. Once it is dark, they will certainly be leaving, too.”

  “I wonder if the soldierguards are making Ayle nervous,” I murmured.

  “No doubt he is thanking his lucky stars that the exercise was run today rather than tomorrow,” Brydda said with sharp humor. “Imagine them trying to shift a hundred slaves under the noses of the soldierguards.”

  “A hundred,” Oria murmured. “It is hard to believe how brazen this is.”

  “Since we have to wait anyway, I might try to reach Daffyd,” I said, sitting on an upturned box to make myself comfortable.

  “I doubt he will be out in the open with so much going on,” Brydda said. He looked at Reuvan. “Do you
have any food? I have not eaten all day and …”

  His voice faded as I closed my eyes and shaped an attuned probe to Daffyd’s mind signature. The mental static was very strong this close to the water, which meant I had to concentrate fiercely to keep my mindprobe intact. Given Brydda’s warning, I was shocked when the probe not only reached its target but elicited a strong reaction from Daffyd—as if I had thrust a brand into his mind.

  The intensity of his response was blistering.

  “I have prayed and prayed you would reach me,” he sent frantically. “Elspeth, it was a ruse! They’re loading the slaves aboard a ship right now! They’re going to leave as soon as it’s done!”

  29

  “WE DARE NOT go any closer,” Reuvan whispered from our hiding spot behind a pile of crates. “The soldierguards are still there, marching back and forth like a lot of fools. I can’t imagine what they are doing, but they will have to go when it gets dark. We should wait until then to get nearer.”

  “This is madness,” Brydda said softly. “Burlymen and soldierguards all milling about while the slavers openly load an illicit cargo of drugged slaves.”

  “Daffyd didn’t sound as if he was making a mistake,” I said softly. “He sounded panic-stricken and deadly serious.”

  “Keep your voices down,” Oria warned. “Sound carries far and easily by the water.”

  “We have to get closer,” Brydda said, frustrated. “Ask Daffyd if he can—”

  I shook my head. “I can’t reach him. He must have gone back into the warehouse, and the static from the tainted water is like a stone wall.”

  “Luddamn it!” the rebel chief hissed.

  “I don’t understand,” said the brown-bearded rebel. “The only ship on the manifest for tonight is The Calor Lady, and like I said, that is a Herder ship.”

  “That is the least strange thing about this whole affair. Herder ships are for hire at the right price, like any other,” Brydda said. He looked at me. “Can you hide us somehow? We need to get closer.”

  I glanced instinctively at Oria and the other rebel. Their faces showed slight curiosity but nothing more, and I wondered how much Brydda had told them of me.

  “I can cloak two of us,” I said.

  “Wait here,” Brydda instructed the others.

  “Just a minute,” I said quickly. “I can feel Daffyd again.”

  I closed my eyes, and the general probe I had left in case the farseeker emerged sharpened into an attuned probe. Like Matthew, his farseeking power was too weak to combat the static from the Suggredoon on its own, but I could make up the difference.

  “You’d better do something now if you are going to, Elspeth,” he sent urgently. “Matthew is in the last lot, and they are going to load them shortly. Once he is on the ship, you will have no hope of helping him unless you brought an army.”

  “What about Salamander?” I sent. “Have you managed to farseek him?”

  “No!” Daffyd’s mental voice was savage with disappointment and rage. “He has not come ashore, and I cannot reach him over the damn water!”

  “Ask him about the soldierguards and the Herders,” Brydda hissed into my ear.

  I shook my head angrily, for he had distracted me, and it was difficult enough to focus in the static.

  “Daffyd?” I sent. “Why are they boarding them on a Herder ship?”

  There was no answer.

  “He’s gone, but he said they’re going to load Matthew any minute.”

  “What about Salamander?”

  “He hasn’t left the ship.”

  Brydda scowled. “The man has the instincts of a fangcat. It is almost as if he knew we were waiting for him.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, let’s get nearer.”

  He led the way, and I concentrated on cloaking us coercively as we emerged from behind the crates and made our way through a narrow lane toward the water. I could smell the faintly brackish scent of the Suggredoon and hear its rush before I saw it. The static from the tainting was incredibly strong, and I wondered what had caused it. Certainly the upper reaches of the river, which fed the lake beneath Tor, were clean.

  The row of sheds came into view, and through the gaps between them, I could see they were separated from the river by a stone walkway. Right on the bank were the warehouses, facing away from the river. The warehouse jutting out over the water was farthest away from us and set back a little from the rest. People were moving about in front of it, and even from this distance, I could see the huge front door stood ajar.

  Tied up alongside it was a ship, its three masts and a small part of its bow visible behind the bulk of the warehouse. Judging from the movement of people about it, the gangplank lay on the warehouse side of the ship.

  Brydda pressed my arm and pointed past the warehouse to an open field, where fifty or so soldierguards in full regalia were marching in formation. They were paying no mind whatsoever to the ship.

  The whole scene was bathed in the ever-deepening pinkish gold light of the predusk. In less than an hour, the sun would set.

  “It can be no coincidence that the soldierguards are here,” Brydda whispered.

  “Do you think they were hired by the slavers?”

  “Not this many,” Brydda said. “Too much risk of someone talking.” He gave me a searing look. “Of course, a soldierguard captain might have some hidden reason for ordering his troops to perform their exercises here.”

  I bit my lip and wondered again about the soldierguard captain.

  “Can you get us any closer?” the rebel prompted.

  I shook my head decisively. “There are burlymen loading a wagon from that shed just up there. You can’t see them from here, but I felt them with my probe. Too many to coerce into blindness.”

  Brydda and I stared at one another, and with dawning horror, I saw resignation shape itself in his eyes.

  “We have to help Matthew,” I cried.

  “Shh,” he said sternly. “I know how you feel, but it is impossible to attack openly. If he is to be rescued, it can only be by stealth and wit. Between the seamen, the slaver’s hirelings, the burlymen … Even with your powers, there are only five of us, six counting Daffyd, and Matthew makes seven—if he is in any state to fight.”

  “There are nine—if you count the equines as two more,” Gahltha sent sternly, and I turned to see that the black horse had followed us.

  “I/Gahltha hid myself,” he sent imperturbably. “Sallah watches over the other funaga.”

  “Hell!” Brydda started in fright when he noticed the horse. “What in the name of …?”

  I shook my head impatiently, knowing two horses would not tilt the balance in our favor in an open battle. Then I spotted Daffyd coming from the warehouse with a small group of shuffling slaves. He led them along the pier and then vanished between the building and the ship.

  “Elspeth!” Daffyd sent as soon as he felt my probe. “I’m taking this group to the ship, and Matthew is in the next lot. It doesn’t matter if you cause a fuss, because Salamander is out of my reach anyway. Help Matthew …”

  His voice faded, and the contact dissolved. I guessed he had stepped onto the gangplank and out over the water.

  I sent a swift command to Gahltha and pulled myself up on his back. At once he started forward, evading Brydda’s grasp.

  “Elspeth!” the rebel hissed, not daring to come out in the open after us.

  “Stay still and no one will see you,” I said over my shoulder as I urged Gahltha forward.

  “Elspeth, there is nothing you can do!” he said. “For Lud’s sake, come back.”

  Gahltha’s hooves clattered on the pier boards, drowning out Brydda’s frantic whisperings.

  “Go along the pier/ride slowly,” I sent to the equine. Then I turned my mind to the warehouse. “Matthew!” I sent. “Matthew!”

  But, of course, there was no answer.

  Closer to the warehouse, I could see The Calor Lady properly. It was an elegant vessel with slender lines
and its name stamped in red on the bow. Underneath was the distinctive Herder insignia. Given what Brydda had said, it had probably been hired for the occasion to encourage people to mind their own business. Though I could not see why, since they were brazenly loading slaves in public with soldierguards paying no mind to them at all.

  The vessel rested low in the water, underlining Daffyd’s warning that most of the slaves had already been boarded. No doubt the armsman had contrived as best he could to put Matthew’s boarding off to the last moment. If this was imminent, it meant the ship’s departure also loomed, as well it must if they meant to catch the out tide, cross the sandbars at the river mouth, and reach open sea by nightfall.

  I came level with the burlymen I had sensed. They had been loading bales of wool onto a wagon from a shed opposite the first of the four warehouses. But they had ceased their labors to watch the loading of the slaves. I felt dizzy with confusion. They were watching as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. There had to be more going on than officials turning a blind eye.

  “Good riddance, I say,” said one of the two.

  His thickset companion nodded, and I could not stop myself staring at them. Since when had slavery gained such general approval?

  “Reckon the Herders should have rounded ’em up a long time ago. Waste of space they are,” the first man said.

  His silent companion nodded again.

  “Can’t see them succeedin’ in healin’ this lot, though, no matter that they say Lud’ll help ’em. Even if they do have skilled healers on Herder Isle. Once a defective always a defective, I say.”

  I struggled to keep my face expressionless, but suddenly I understood what was going on. No one knew these people were slaves! Those watching thought that Herders were taking a load of defectives to their Isle for treatment. That was why the soldierguards were doing nothing and why the whole thing could be done in broad daylight without fear. And the new Sadorian drugs meant none of the slaves behaved as if they were drugged.